


Are We Still Running

by RedWords



Category: WWE
Genre: Deans trying to figure him out, M/M, Mob!Roman, Mobster AU, Roman has two sides to him, ambreigns - Freeform, im bad at tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-02 17:58:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6576727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedWords/pseuds/RedWords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's gone off to live his life in a new city. To start over, but he ends up meeting a man who's got two sides to him. Will he stay, to try and figure out both? Ambreigns MobBoss!Roman</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Run

Are we still running?

 

This cold city, these cold streets. The windy nights and dull mornings. There's nothing much more here. No use being contained in this dead place. This dust covered town. 

All the right signs, say to leave. Get up, pack the few items to name, and Run. 

"Start over," is on repeat in this stressed head. "Nothing much to lose," always following along after.  
And the decision is made. Where to Run? As far as possible. 

Just making it by is not a new feeling. Starved and tired with just a few rumpled bucks in pocket.  
It's nothing much, almost nothing at all. But it's what got him away, and that's enough to get that long gone smirk, back onto the Ohioans face. 

It's night by the time he arrives. The city doesn't buzz with flashing lights and rambling crowds. But it's not the usual, dull street lamps and growling hounds either. It's a comfortable night so far, besides the caking humidity this air brings. And all Dean knows is a steaming shower and cold beer would be the cherry on top of his eternal vacation from Cincinnati. 

And that's exactly what he gets. After checking into some cheap, three dollar motel. The man takes his shower, throws on some dark jeans and shirt, then trudges his way down the street and into a local bar. 

There's a buzz in the air, voices all around. The lights are dim, but it's clear to see people everywhere. Talking, drinking, lounging. No room for him, accept that open stool near the bar. It's damn there deserted over there, besides the lone man leant up, nursing his drink. 

He makes his way over, arguing on whether to take the seat beside the man or keep his distance. But the decision is made before he gets to really think on it. His feet walking up, and taking the seat right next to said stranger. 

Dean feels a pair of eyes on him, the second he's sat and comfortable on the stool. But doesn't stare back. Just waves the bartender over and digs out his wallet. 

"What can I get'cha?" Dean thinks over it for just a few seconds, "Cold beer, don't matter the brand." He gets a nod. 

The bartender walks away to the far end, shiny glass in hand, ready to fill it to the brim with whatever beers in stock. And since he's just about on the other side of the bar. That leaves just the two men. Strangers to one another. The eyes don't leave the back of Dean's head, causing an antsy feel to crawl up and down his spine.  
He can't take it anymore, and icy blue lock onto the smokey eyed stranger. 

Dean expects the man to cower away, like any normal motherfucker that's caught staring. But this man, just stays poised. Giving Dean a once over as he sips his drink again. Licking those full lips as he sets the glass down with a clink onto the tabletop. 

Just as Dean readied himself to speak up, he was cutoff by his beer being flashed in front of his face and a quiet "Here you go sir,"  
The Ohioan nodded his thanks and looked back over to the stranger. But was surprised to see those gray eyes no longer staring his way. Instead looking over at an expensive silver watch, clasped on his wrist. 

Dean takes this time to look over the man sitting next to him. Stranger's got long dark hair that's slicked back and into a low ponytail. A crisp white button up framing his large shoulders. With the sleeves rolled up, and showing a long, intricate tribal tattoo. Damn, Dean couldn't just do a once over. Had to look back up. 

Go back over the missed features. Like that trimmed goatee framing the sharp jawline. Or the muscles straining in that too tight button up. 

Shit, what was he? A real life walking God? 

"I got somethin on my face, or do you just like staring at strangers." A deep rumble of a laugh follows the mans question.  
And how dare he? Looking like that, he should know staring would be a given. 

"Hey man, you were eyeing me first. I just wanted to make sure you know how it feels." Dean looks away and takes the first sip of his beer. 

"Well, I was over here, by myself I should add, minding my own business when you come plop down next to me. Knowing you could've went anywhere else. Why wouldn't I stare." 

Dean shoots him a look, setting down his drink harsher than necessary. Making some spill out and onto his fingers. He pays no mind though, instead ready to snap back at the smirking motherfucker that sits right next to him. 

"Well, if you looked around, you'd see the place is fuckin packed. Where else am I supposed to sit man. I just wanna drink on my first damn night here, in peace."

There's a deep hum rumbling out of the others mans throat. Eyes lighting up, like he just found the last piece of a puzzle.  
"Ah I knew it."

There's a confused look set up on Dean's face. Eyebrows scrunched up, mouth parted open and it makes a snorted laugh come out of Stranger. 

"You knew what?"

"I've never seen you round here before. If I did, I would've remembered." Those eyes rake over him again followed up with a wide smirk. 

"Wait, what do you me-" Dean's cut off when the man asks for his name. 

With a roll of his eyes and a gulp of his beer he responds with a quiet "Names Dean," 

The other man nods, repeating his name like he's testing it out on his tongue. As if they'd ever keep in touch. Hanging out in bars together, crashing cars on endless nights. No, Dean didn't come here to make friends. 

But just because he doesn't want anything to do with this rude, godly, motherfucker. Doesn't mean he shouldn't know his name too. 

Just when he's about to ask, Dean gets cut off for what feels like the twentieth time that night. And by some guy clad in all black, even sunglasses. Despite the fact they're inside and all the light are damn there off. 

Stranger, hears the guy utter one word and the smile wipes right off his face. Turning around quickly in his stool. Waiting for the other man to speak to him again. 

"Boss, we've gotta finish that project. I'm gathering everyone up so we can head out."  
Those gray eyes blink twice, slow and black. "Get my card and pay the tab," he motions for the other to come closer.  
And when he does, there's a whisper that Dean can't pick up. Not even able to read the lips of Stranger, to get a glimpse of what was said. 

Then all of a sudden, in a blur he's getting up and leaving. Dean doesn't even think as he's grabbing Stranger's hand. And he expects the deep gray eyes to go wide, showing any reaction. But all he gets is a turn of the head. 

"You never told me your name? Don't think that's fair, right?"

That gets a short laugh outta him, and he's turning back to Dean fully. All tall and big, Dean might even let his pride slip and say intimidating. 

"Nah man, it's not. Call me B.D."  
But what the hell does that mean? There was no question for a nickname. 

"Still not fair, that's just a couple initials. What's it stand for?"

B.D. Gives him an amusing smirk. Grabbing up the glass that was long forgotten on the counter. Stalling to take a sip then answers, "Big Dog. It means Big Dog." Then he's walking away, leaving Dean there, nameless and by himself. 

He sighs and turns back in his stool. The place seems so empty now, and he'd just like to finish his drink and head back to that cheap motel. 

Dean motions the bartender back over, "How much do I owe you?

"Owe nothing, the man who was sitting next to you, said he'd take your tab for the night."

Dean pauses the sip he was about to take, looking up at the bartender, who wipes off the counters. 

"Huh, alright. Well then I'll take another one of these and whatever the hell he was having."

"Coming right up sir."


	2. The Family

A week goes by and the cheap motel has become too familiar on these cold nights. With the plain white walls making this too small room feel enclosed, and the noisy air conditioning luring around him. But money’s running low and there’s not many other places you can get a three night stay for just nine bucks.

* * *

“Okay Dean, I understand this is your first full night on the job, but we’ve got important customers coming in tonight.” Dean listened closely to his newest boss. A short lady, older with a softly stern voice. Her hair dark with cascading grey growing here and there, all slicked back into a low bun. Wrinkles framed the outside of her brown eyes and followed down to the dimples of her cheeks. Oddly, the whole look was not a new sight. Something about the dark hair and caramel skin, sparking a deja vu into Dean’s mind. 

“Yea, you said something about a meeting in the private room, right? Whole place getting bought out for the night, by some big shots in suits.” Dean pushed stray auburn hair from his eyes. Reading for a sign of fault in his questions. 

“Yes, big shots in suits. But they’re considered family, I expect you to treat each with all of your respect. Their company to our restaurant is a given every month, and I do not want that changing anytime soon.”

Guess that’s understandable. Whoever these people were, you could tell their presence meant a lot to the boss lady. With the smile rising up her face and glint in her eye, she stared off into space. Only catching herself about a minute or two later. It’d been a weird thing to witness. The boss clutching her apron with a far away expression. Lost in her own world. Do you really get this look thinking about guests? But there were no answers to come right now, as her small hands guided Dean over to the dishwasher and sink. She didn’t even need to say a word. The silent motherly way of saying  _ get back to work.  _

Hours and hours later the whole place smells like an upgraded Olive Garden. There’s ravioli being drained on one side of the kitchen, and meatballs baking in the oven. Nia’s grating the cheese, and boss lady cuts off thick slices of garlic bread. When asked to portion out by one of the lower rank chefs, her eyes cut to slits. A dangerous look, and through gritted teeth you can hear, “I’ve cooked for these men for years, I know exactly how much food they’ll need.” The cooks hands were thrown up in defense, an apologetic look casted her way as he backed up slowly. A quiet chuckle escaped Dean as he thought  _ that lady is something else.  _

As the hour of arrival came closer and closer, stress levels rose across the restaurant. Staff cleaned the private room from top to bottom, plates spotless and silverware shining until you could see your reflection in them. Whoever these people were they were getting five star treatment. No question about that. But plans turned for the worst when the main waiter called out “with a severe cold” twenty minutes before their shift. Boss lady was beyond livid, face redder than Dean’s ever seen it, she was a scary sight to see for such a kind older lady. But in these moments with the shrill voice screaming in a language he could not understand. The instinct to leave pounded away in his head. Thoughts of regret eating away at his surroundings till the only focal point he could clearly point out were the canopy glass doors leading out of the room.  _ No, fuck come on Dean. Focus. You need this job come back. Find five things to focus on.  _ Blue eyes raked across the room. Landing on wine glasses perfectly placed on their long dining table.  _ That’s right, focus. How many are there? Count em’.  _

“One, two…” Across the entire table eight gleamed from the lights of a chandelier hanging from the ceiling.  _ Good, eight glasses, one chandelier. What else they got in here?  _ The place had a nice home vibe going with it. Orchid flowers displayed neatly in vases across the room. Dean took a chance and glanced over to boss lady to see if the tantrum was over, but stopped short once his eyes landed on the gold necklace tucked away into her shirt. Sneaking a closer look you could faintly see the red pendant dangling from the chain. Damn how much did this place make?  _ Okay, you’ve got one more thing to focus on. Come on Dean, pay attention.  _ The auburn man had to force his eyes away before his mind came up with a hundred different ways she could have got that necklace. Looking over to the walls, paintings hung gathering a bit of dust. A closer look and you could see the paintings all were of a family. The older man dressed clad in an expensive suit. Cigar held in one hand and the other wrapped around the waist of his wife. A beautiful woman, with a smile you couldn’t take your eyes off of. Was it weird to say in a sense she kind of looked like a younger version of boss lady. Below her two boys sat on wooden chairs. Face as stoic as their father’s. But the younger one’s eyes shone with something bright. An oddly comforting sight, there was just something so familiar about it. 

“Dean, did you hear me?” Coming back down to reality, with a hand tapping away at his collar and a lot closer to the paintings than he’d remembered being before. A slight blush crept up his cheeks as apologies stumbled out from his mouth. 

“I’m sorry. No ma’am what did you say?” He hated how scratchy his voice came out. As if he swallowed a mouthful of gravel. But it had been that way ever since he turned seventeen years old. Deeper than normal, making him seem a lot older than what he was. Meant people didn’t care about your well being anymore. Women would flock by his side and talk him into buying shitty drinks and messy blow jobs. Men would pick petty fights and try to sell him sketchy drugs. Not the best life for a kid to be in, and after years of the same behavior something was bound to slip.  _ Your sanity maybe. _

“I need you to work Jamie’s shift tonight. It’s just waiting the table and making a good impression. I’ll make sure you get paid extra and the tips are well served. Could you do it?” The desperate look on her face gave no options of decline. And after a hesitant shake of his head, Dean was rushed off to put on the new uniform. 

* * *

A buzz was in the air now, the staff whispering to each other about the guests arrival. Appetizers were being platted now and bottles chilled in fancy ice pitchers. Dean sneaked a quick peek out to the main entry way to see men shuffling in. A couple of them laced fingers with their wives by their side. Before all could come in Dean was forced back into the kitchen to help get the cart  set up holding the drinks. Again another reminder of important people,  _ basically don’t fuck this up.  _ As the boss lady walked out to the private room Dean trailed closely behind her. Eyes casted down and focused. That is until…

“Lo’u atalii!” Dean looked up to see his boss with tears filled to the brim of her eyes and arms wide open. Looking over to the table, a man stood up. His shoulders broad and a grey suit clung to his body. Dean could only see the back of the man’s head, where a neat bun snagged up all of the dark brown hair. But as he turned around and caught sight of those sharp grey eyes, all of the air left his body.

“Ma!” those big arms wrapped around the boss lady and held her tight. Practically squeezing the tears out of her, as she choked out a cry. The smile was as bright as the woman in the painting. And the eyes were as vibrant as the little boy’s. This was their family. And as those eyes looked up, past his mother and fell on Dean. You could tell. 

It was him. It was B.D.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness Gracious two years later and I've finally decided to write again. I hope you all enjoy because I plan on keeping up with this story.


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